


Fighter

by Taybay14



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Fluff, fighter!Dean, short but cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2015-11-04
Packaged: 2018-04-30 01:19:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5144984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taybay14/pseuds/Taybay14
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So I was watching the movie Southpaw and it got me thinking how sexy it would be if Dean is this totally out of control fighter and Castiel is the only one who can calm him. </p>
<p>A little drabble from my tumblr:<br/>http://destiel-love-forever.tumblr.com/</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fighter

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my tumblr while you're at it, along with my other stories on my archive!! I would be forever grateful!  
> http://destiel-love-forever.tumblr.com/
> 
> Enjoy (:

"Dean!" Dean is slamming his right fist into the man's face over and over again. The blood sprays across his face, but he keeps going. He feels a bone break under his hand, the sound satsifying. The crowd is going crazy,screaming his name, but the only voice he can here is they boy standing just outside the ring. 

"Dean!" Castiel is screaming, his toes right on the line marking the boundary for spectators. He hears a whistle blow, along with the bell above the ring. He doesn't even realize the fight is over until the ref is pulling him off the guy. There's blood everywhere. Dean can taste it when his tongue darts out. He stumbles back, taking in the scene around him. Slowly the cheering gets   
louder, his ears recovering. Everything comes into sharp focus. The crowd, the cheers, the EMT looking at the guy on the ground. And Castiel. 

Someone from his team helps him out of the ring, his muscles already aching. Someone shoves a hat on his head, someone else slinging a belt over his shoulder. His eyes hurt from all the camera flashes. "Dean!" He hears again. His head whips around, searching for the source. He pushes through the crowd, his whole body shaking.

"Dean!" Castiel is standing just outside the mob, up on his tiptoes. He's cupping his mouth with his hands, trying to make himself louder. His blue eyes are full of fear as he keeps searching. When Dean emerges, he drops his hands, a smile spreading across his lips. "Dean!" 

Dean grunts when the boy's body hits him, wrapping his tiny arms around his neck. He holds Castiel for a full minute, trying to gain some composure. He'll have a press conference in a few minutes. He'll have to answer to a committee about continuing to hit after the final bell. But right now, in this moment, he has everything. 

When Castiel pulls away, it's just to look at him. He still holds his shoudlers, keeping him close. He lifts a finger, letting it hover over the various cuts. Dean's right eye is bloodshot, the green bright against the red. "Dean." He whispers. Dean hates the look on his face. Hates the way it makes him feel. 

"I'm okay baby." He assures Castiel, nodding like he actually believes it. Castiel's neck has a smear of blood on it, along with his shirt. Dean's not sure if it's his, or the guys he was fighting. It doesn't matter. He needs to shower anyway, he'll bring Castiel with him. 

"Come on. Let's get outta here." He wraps his arm around Castiel, telling him to look at the ground. The last fight the media tore their relationship apart, making Castiel cry when he watched ESPN. Dean will protect him this time. Someone stops them, asking a question about the fight. "Pretty sure you can ask me at the Press Conference." Dean mutters, shoving past the guy. When they reach his personal locker room, Dean locks the door behind them. 

"Dean." Castiel whispers again. Dean can tell he wants to kiss him. And Dean wants to too. He wants to slam him up against the wall and take him apart. But he can't. Every muscles in his body aches. Castiel lifts a hand, cupping the side of his face. He winces, but tries his best not to pull away. "You have to stop."

"I can't." 

"Why? Because of the money? You're a millionare. Because of the fame? Ask for as stupid TV show or something. You're in the hall of fame, it's not going anywhere. Why won't you stop?"

"I love it, Cas. I fucking love this." Dean pulls away. This is the same god damn fight they have after every match. Dean's contract only gives him a few of these a week, but Castiel still tries messing with it. 

"What about me?" He asks, crying now. Dean freezes. This isn't the usual fight. Usually Castiel asks him why he loves it, Dean says he can't explain it, and they drop it. This is   
different. "Don't you love me?" Castiel asks brokenly.

"Of course I do." Dean says quickly. But Castiel takes a step back, shaking his head. 

"More than fighting?"

"That's not fair!" Dean almost yells. Castiel turns his back to him, grabbing his duffel bag from the bench by the door. He slings it over his shoulder, turning to face Dean again. "What are you doing Cas?"

"Do you love me more than fighting?"He asks, his voice shaking. He's gripping the strap of his duffel bag tightly, his knuckles white.

"Cas."

"That's what I thought." He pushes past Dean, unlocking the door and opening it. There's a crowd of reporters waiting for him, but he hangs his head like Dean taught him. NOt because   
he's afraid, but because he's crying. Dean could have easily stopped him. Easily chased after him. Instead, the only thing he got was the sound of the door clicking shut behind him.

 

 

  
Later, Castiel is wrapped in a blanket that smells like Dean. He's curled up in a ball on Charlie's couch, three suitcases full of his stuff leaning against her apartment wall. She's pouring wine for them in the kitchen. The TV is on ESPN, despite Charlie's many protests about it. The camera is on a stage filled with Dean's crew members, a mob of reporters surrounding it. The middle podium is empty, two minutes left before Dean takes the stage. 

Charlie walks into the living room, sitting beside him. She hands him a large glass of red wine, Castiel having to unravel the blanket slightly to be able to hold it. He takes a long pull, letting it slowly drain down his throat. The burn is comforting. 

"Are you sure you want to watch this?" Charlie asks, just as the televsion speakers errupt with applause. Dean takes the stage, limping slightly. He has a plain white t-shirt on, dark jeans hanging lazily from his hips. He lenas up against the podium, putting most of his weight on it. He grips the sides, his knuckles white. 

People start raising their hands, begging for his attention. His eyes meet with the camera, staring it down. He lets out a little laugh. The kind that usually escapes him when he's had a few to drink. Or when he's about to be a sarcastic little shit. "One sec." He slightly slurs. 

"Is he drunk?" Charlie asks. Castiel isn't entirley sure, but it could be possible. 

"He might just be exhausted." Dean's eyes flutter closed for a second, almost like he's proving Castiel right.

"I just got somethin to say." Dean says, his eyes wide now. He shifts slightly, like he preparing himself."As many of you know, tonight was the last fight of a three year contract. Tomorrow, I am supposed to be meeting with HBO to negotiate a new one." He lets out another laugh, this time it sounds slightly more relieved than sarcastic. "I won't be doing that."

There is a slight gasp from the crowd. It's nothing compared to the one Charlie lets out. Castiel grips his glass tightly, leaning slighly towards the TV. Dean looks directly into the camera, which is now zoomed on his face. "I used to think fighting was all I had. I lost my parents young, my brother killed himself. I had nothing but two fists and a pocket full of ones from hustling pool. I was nothing." Dean clears his throat, his eyes shining. He adjusts himself again, wincing as his muscles protest. "Tonight, I realized I had more. More than the money and the fame. More than the thrill of the fight. And I realized I wasn't willing to lose that. So I'm retiring." More shouts from the crowd, and lots fo flashes from various cameras. His team beside him is panicking, his manager trying to pull him away for a brief chat.

"And Cas." Dean says, shutting everyone up. The camera stays zoomed on him. "Your ass better be home when I get there, because I do. I love you more."


End file.
